Saints & Angels
by Caught In A Simple Game
Summary: AU. Cousins Aven and Torrin take over what used to be McGinty's. While the brothers are skeptical at first, they soon find the pub is just as a good of a place now as it was before. They're enchanted with the establishment's new owners and although they hit it off at first, Connor and Murphy soon find that these women are holding back secrets that may be better left untold.
1. St Patrick's Day

The MacManus brothers stood outside of the building they had always known to be McGinty's Pub. It hadn't been for months now, and they had yet to force themselves into the establishment since it had gone under new ownership.

They missed Doc, plain and simple. When the old man's heart started to give out on him, he had leaned heavily on the twins for help. And, they had helped more than willingly. Since receiving The Call, their fortunes had been great – greater than they ever thought they would see. Still, they kept a low profile, only fishing out cash from where they had it stowed away when necessary.

"I've sold the bar to two pretty Irish girls," Doc had beamed just a couple of days before he went to sleep for the last time. "You'll like them, I think."

Connor and Murphy had been more than skeptical. They liked things the way they were. More than once they asked after any family Doc might have who could take over, but the old man just assured them over and over that the bar's new owners would do the place right.

It had now been more than three months since he'd been gone. Rocco was the one to finally convince them it was time to check out the place, although he hadn't set foot near it since Doc had passed, either.

"It's St. Patrick's Day, and I know you Irish assholes would like to be out with all the other Irish assholes," Rocco told them. "Might as well check out this new place."

"It's not new," Connor argued. "Just new ownership."

Murphy agreed with a nod as he took a long drag from his cigarette. "Might as well be a new place then."

"Come on. I'll go with you, it's a bad time, we'll find a new place. But this drinking at home business has gotta go."

The brothers knew their friend was right. Rocco would be late meeting them, once he untangled himself from the sheets of whichever girl his flavor was that week, but for now, they stood in front of the pub, deciding to go through with it or not.

"Two Cousins Pub," Connor read off the sign.

"Original," Murphy scoffed. "This is a damn joke. Let's get out of here and find some other –"

A patron walked out of the bar, lighting a cigarette as he went. The man's brief pause to get the match to stay lit caused him to stand with the door open for moments longer than usual. Behind him, another group filed out, so the door remained open.

Murphy had glanced inside, his sentence interrupted by the sight he saw. A pretty girl with dark hair stood behind the bar, filling a tray of shot glasses. She glanced up at the door and when she saw it standing open, she yelled to another woman down the counter before coming their way. After bidding everyone coming out a safe and happy St. Patty's Night, she shoved a doorstop under the door.

"It's getting warm in there with all the body heat," she chuckled. "You two coming in, or you going to celebrate the best day of the year on the sidewalk by yourselves?"

Connor shrugged and looked over to see his brother's thoughts. All it took was one look at Murphy to erase Connor's doubts about going inside.

"Aye, we'd love to have a drink. Is there room at the bar?" Connor asked.

"Should be. If not, I'll clear a spot for ya."

Murphy came out of his trance only after Connor punched him in the shoulder. "Get it together, would ya? She's just a girl."

"Prettiest Irish girl I've ever seen," Murphy mumbled under his breath as they followed her into the pub.

Some of the regulars were there, and they all shared a happy reunion. The woman waited for the brothers to be in her tow again, and shoved away a couple of drunks to make room for them at the bar.

"You didn't have to do that," Murphy told her, finally finding his tongue.

She shrugged. "It's all right. They've been cut off for a while, let them find a corner to pass out in. What'll be, gents?"

They ordered a beer to each of them, and she served the dark ale in frosted pint glasses, with a shot of whiskey on the side.

"First ones are on the house." She poured one for herself and clinked glasses with them. "Sláinte."

"Sláinte," the brothers returned in unison.

The whiskey left a comfortable burn in their chests. The woman smiled and tossed all three shot glasses under the counter. She promised to return soon, moving down the bar to take other orders and shoot Jameson with other patrons as they were purchased for her. She seemed to be the lead behind the counter, while the other woman, a redhead with a confident air about her, went back and forth from the patrons out in the pub and the back room.

While she refilled their beers and started a tab for them, the bartender got around to introducing herself. "Name's Aven Donaghue. The redhead is my cousin, Torrin Hannigan."

"Ah, there it is," Connor smiled. "Two Cousins Pub."

"Aye," Aven smiled back. "We've only owned this place for a few months. The previous owner, God rest his soul, came down with a heart sickness. Met him just a couple of times, but he was one of the nicest men I've ever met. Aside from the, uh … oh, how do I put it?"

Before she could come up with something, Murphy spoke up. "Shit! Ass! Fuck!"

"Yes, that's it!" She laughed. "The old man had quite the urge for cursing."

"We knew Doc well," Murphy told her. "We were regulars at McGinty's."

"Haven't seen you around. Must've been holding out on us, eh?"

"Must've been," Connor agreed. His gaze had traveled over to the register behind the bar and down a-ways. "We should have been in sooner."

Aven raised her brow, glancing behind her at Torrin, then back to Connor. "She's taken. Been with the same man for eight years."

Connor shook his head. "That would be the case. What about you, Aven?"

"You boys haven't even told me who you are, and I'm supposed to be divulging my life's secrets? I don't think so."

There was a teasing twinkle to her eye, and Murphy found it nearly irresistible. Instead of climbing over the counter and having his way with her, however, he stood and extended his hand to her. "Murphy MacManus, at your service, Miss. This is my brother, Connor."

Aven nodded as she shook his hand, then picked up a rag to wipe down the counter in front of her. "Doc told us about you. Told us _everything_."

Connor frowned. "Everything, you say? Well, I think I understand the meaning of what you're getting at, but our Doc was not one for giving up secrets."

Aven waved him off. "Secrets are safe with us. He told us we may have to take over hiding things now and then, stuff of that nature. It's not a problem. Another shot?"

"Perhaps we better," Connor agreed. "And one for yourself."

Aven didn't reply, just poured another four shots. "Torrin, come over here and do this shot with us."

The redhead looked hesitant but didn't argue. They four clinked their glasses together, bid each other good health in their native tongue, then downed the whiskey.

"Keep 'em coming," Murphy instructed.

While she refilled first their beers and then their shot glasses, Aven introduced her cousin. "Torrin, this is Connor and Murphy MacManus. Boys, this is my cousin Torrin."

"Pleasure," Torrin smiled, shaking hands with both of them. "Hope to see you boys in here more regularly, now that you know we're not so bad."

"We've got the impression you're not so bad, but I don't think I'd call it a fact just yet," Connor teased her. "But I think we could commit to being in regularly from here on out. What do you say, Murph?"

Murphy downed the shot, chased it with a good gulp of beer and made sure to catch Aven's eyes. "I'd say there's not much could keep me away now."

Even in the dim lighting, he could see her blush as she moved away, tending to other customers. He was pleased with himself, to say the least. He didn't know much about Aven, but he knew enough at this point to be sure that he wanted to know more.

"Maybe Doc was right. We should have met with these girls sooner," Connor mentioned.

Murphy nodded. "Aye. I'll agree to that."

Rocco came in not long after that, and he too was introduced to the cousins. The brothers and their friend stayed at the bar but would go and sit with friends at the tables, too. The hours passed before they realized it, and before too long, only Connor, Murphy, and Rocco remained on the other side of the counter. Torrin did the closing duties at the counter while Aven flipped chairs onto the tables and cleaned up after the drunks. When Murphy came over to help, she offered him a smile as thanks.

"Don't mind doing it myself, but the help is nice," she admitted. "Sure you boys are all right to get home? We've got a pot of coffee on if you'd like to stay and have a cup before you go."

"Coffee," Murphy chuckled. "Too late at night for coffee. Or early in the morning. One of the two."

Aven laughed. "It's never the wrong time for coffee. Come on, stay a while. Torrin will be a little bit yet, but we always have a cup to wind down before we head home."

Aven extended the invitation to Rocco and Connor as well; Connor accepted but Rocco went on his way.

"He's drunk on a girl," Murphy explained as the Italian man left the pub. He took a seat at the bar again, watching Aven as she moved about, finishing her cleaning and organizing. She set out four coffee mugs and called for Torrin as she filled them.

"Finish that shit tomorrow," Aven encouraged her cousin. "We've got guests for coffee tonight."

"Fair enough," Torrin agreed. "I needed this – this and my warm, comfy bed."

"Is your man waiting for ya?" Connor asked.

Torrin glared at Aven, who shrugged. "He was asking after you, felt it was only fair that he was properly informed."

"No, he probably won't be waiting. We've been bickering quite a bit lately, and I'd imagine he knows better than to be waiting for me."

"And what about you, Aven?" Murphy pressed. "You never answered us earlier."

"She's single as they come," Torrin answered. Aven pinched her as a reward. "Just returning the favor, dear cousin. Making sure he's _properly informed _and all."

Aven rolled her eyes. "Yes, gentlemen, much to the chagrin of both my mother and father, I am, indeed, single."

"Your parents live here in Boston?"

"No, they're back home in Ireland. Torrin's parents, too. They brought us over here more than ten years ago, when both our fathers found work. They've since been transferred back home. Torrin stayed, and I missed her far too much not to come back to the States. Left Ireland just about six months ago."

"How is it you two are cousins anyway? You don't look it."

"My mother is her father's sister," Torrin explained. "We grew up thicker than thieves, the two of us."

They made small talk over coffee, talking about what parts of Ireland they had lived in and what they missed most about their home country. Once the coffee pot was emptied and washed along with the mugs, the girls decided it was time to close up shop.

"Hopefully we'll be seeing you soon," Torrin told them as she locked the door. "And if you know of any girls looking for work, we need afternoon waitresses. Looking to put in a small kitchen area and have a lunch menu, if we can find the workers."

"We'll let you know. Do you girls live far?" Connor asked.

Torrin shook her head. "Not far at all."

There was an awkward silence as the four of them stood on the sidewalk, Connor and Torrin ready to move on for the time being, but Aven and Murphy hesitant to part ways.

Torrin finally cleared her throat. "Actually, Aven, we shouldn't leave these trash bags overnight. Murph, do you think you could walk her to the dumpster in the back, then home? Connor can walk me home, if he's so inclined, and you two can meet back up there."

"Sounds perfect, right?" Connor smiled, offering his elbow to Torrin. She tucked her hand into the crook of his arm and they were on their way.

Aven smiled shyly, picking up one of the trash bags. Murphy hurried to pick up the other two and followed her to the rusting dumpster behind the pub.

"Thanks for your help," Aven said.

"Not a problem," Murphy answered. "Care for a smoke?"

Aven accepted a cigarette from the pack. Murphy held one between his lips while he lit first her cigarette, then his.

"Probably shouldn't be doing this," Aven commented as they walked. "I quit years ago. Torrin hates the smell, too, so she'll catch it right off."

"Will she be mad?"

"No, I don't think so."

They walked a few steps in silence before Murphy worked up the courage to ask more questions. "So you really came here to open the pub?"

Aven paused, completely. Her steps stopped and she seemed unsure of the answer. Finally, after a few seconds of composing herself, she let out a deep breath. "More or less, we came to open the pub."

"Was it what you always wanted?" Murphy asked, ignoring her strange reaction to his previous question.

She shrugged. "I never thought much about what I'd do after high school, you know? But Torrin always wanted to be her own boss. When we found out McGinty's might be going on the market, we made plans to be the first in line to make an offer. See, Torrin knows business, and I know bartending."

"You make a good team."

"We do," Aven smiled. They rounded the opposite corner of the pub from the dumpster and came to a flight of stairs. "This is our place. Come on in – my guess is that's where your brother's waiting."

"What, did you buy the apartment over the bar, too?"

"Actually, we did."

Murphy chuckled. These girls were something else. Something he couldn't quite put his finger on.

Torrin was just finishing up the tour, rounding back out to the living room, when Aven and Murphy arrived. "There you two are. Made it without a problem?"

"We did," Aven confirmed. "If you gentlemen don't mind, I'm off to bed. Thank you, for walking me home, Murphy."

"Pleasure was all mine," he assured her. Connor neared the door, bidding goodbye to both girls. "See you, Torrin."

"See you," Torrin told them with a wave, locking the door behind the brothers. She turned back into the apartment, heading straight for Aven's room. "Murphy MacManus is in love with you."

Aven pulled a nightgown over her head and rolled her eyes. "He is not. He doesn't know enough to be in love with me and once he does, he's going to run as fast as he can in the other direction."

"You don't know that."

"Oh, don't I?" Aven returned. "And what about you and Connor? You looked awfully comfortable tucked into his arm like that."

"He was being a gentleman, I couldn't refuse," Torrin defended. She looked around the room and took a deep breath. "So, how much are you going to tell them?"

Aven frowned. "None of it. I'm not going to tell them anything. And you'd better not either."

Torrin sighed. "I still wish you'd give this up, this not telling people. No one's going to look at you differently."

"They will," Aven insisted.

Torrin shrugged. "I should know better than to try and change your mind, I suppose. Sleep good."

"You too, cousin."

Aven turned off the bedroom light and stared up at the ceiling as she tried to sleep. Maybe, knowing what she knew of the MacManus brothers, it wouldn't be such a bad idea to tell them why she had really returned to America.

_Eventually_, she decided in her head. _I'll tell them eventually, when they know me better and won't judge me. _

She could only hope they didn't figure her out before then.

**A/N: This will probably be clichéd and fluffy, just like my other fanfictions. You've been warned. **

**Aven's secret won't stay secret for long, and we'll see more into Torrin's life and relationships in future chapters. **

**Thanks for reading! **


	2. Confessions

Aven grinned and pulled out a pint glass from the far cabinet. She filled it with the Italian man's favorite beer and set it in front of him.

"You're an angel," Rocco sighed, taking a deep swig of the brown ale.

"You're most welcome," she returned. "Will your friends be joining you soon?"

"Should be. They're just finishing up some business."

Aven frowned but didn't ask questions. She knew that Rocco didn't always join them in completing their saintly duties, but it wasn't often that he didn't wait for them at their shared apartment afterwards. Her chest twinged with concern, but Aven stamped it down and went about her work.

The bar was not so filled up this night as it had been a month ago on St. Patrick's Day. Business was always pouring through, especially since Torrin had started that lunch menu last week. Along with the lunch menu had come Alana, a young waitress working until she decided what she wanted to go to college for, and Tiger, a burly Native American man who made the best pub food Aven had ever tasted. The four of them got along amazingly; Alana and Tiger worked from open to around seven or eight in the evening, while Aven came in the late afternoon and stayed till close. Torrin would come in and open the bar, get Alana and Tiger helped out during the busy times, then come back a few hours after the kitchen closed to finish the night out with Aven.

Since St. Patty's, not a day had gone by that the two Irish cousins didn't at least see Murphy and Connor for a few minutes. As Aven picked up the empty plates and glasses of a table whose patrons had just left for the evening, she thought back over her experiences with the MacManus brothers. Even in just the short month since they had met, she and Torrin had become comfortable around the two men – Rocco, too. Besides Gavan, Torrin's horrible boyfriend, Aven didn't spend much time with anyone who wasn't at the bar, so it was nice to find friends there.

Particularly Murphy. He and Connor always stayed for coffee. Sometimes they talked as a group, sometimes Torrin went on home to Gavan, and Aven stayed behind. Occasionally Connor would go for a walk with Torrin or corner her in the office for a talk. Those times, Aven and Murphy would pull down a couple of chairs at one of the cleaner tables and talk. Once, they talked for so long, the sun was coming up before they realized time was passing at all. Connor was nowhere to be found at first, but they located him passed out on the couch at the girls' apartment, with Torrin safely tucked away in her own bed. Aven admitted only to herself that she wanted more than friendship from him. Aven also admitted also only to herself that she had let the old-fashioned parts of her heart win out – she wanted Murphy to come after her.

More than an hour passed that Rocco sat at the bar without the company of his Irish friends. Aven could see the concern on his face, although she knew he tried to hide it. The Funny Man was full of jokes this evening, but she wasn't much for laughing. More to shut him up than out of generosity, Aven told him to order dinner on the house. Maybe the food would give him something else to do with his mouth for a while. The time and his jokes were only making Aven more concerned.

Finally, about an hour before Torrin was due back in the pub, the bell over the door rang. Aven was taking orders for a new table of patrons so that Alana could help Tiger start with closing the kitchen. Aven looked up, and there he was. Murphy MacManus in all his blue-eyed, roguish glory.

She forced herself to look away before her mind could process any further details. Only a bit disappointed when he didn't call out a greeting to her, Aven went back behind the bar, pouring the usual drinks for both Murphy and Connor before going on to the orders for the party at the table.

"You boys all right?" she asked. Connor was acting suspicious, and Murphy was angled away from her, as if he was avoiding her presence.

Connor downed half of his beer. "Aye, just fine. Right, Murph?"

He simply nodded, barely turning towards them, then going back to his hushed conversation with Rocco. Aven loaded bottles and classes onto a tray, filled the glasses with the appropriate drinks, dropped limes into a few of the bottles, and lifted the tray to shoulder level. As she left the counter, she gestured with her head for Connor to follow her.

She pulled him to the side once her tray was empty. "Did I do something I'm not aware of? Why will Murph hardly look at me, let alone speak to me?"

Connor pulled a cigarette from a smashed pack and lifted one to his lips but didn't light it "You've bewitched him, Aven, and tonight that bewitching gave him trouble."

She frowned. "What in the hell are you talking about?"

"Not for me to explain, lass. Say, is Torrin at home? Alone?"

"Far as I know," Aven answered, her eyes on Murphy again.

"I'll go see her and be back." Connor followed her line of sight and added, "Get angry, if you want him to talk. He won't be able to stand it."

Aven thanked him quietly and went back to the bar. Get angry, Connor said. Oh, she had no problem with that.

.&.

Torrin had been dozing on the couch, with the television providing some background noise. She hated the sound of silence. All growing up, silence had never meant anything good for Torrin. Even now, she slept with a sound machine playing unless she got drunk and passed out before she realized it.

The bar would be waiting for her return in an hour or so. Alana and Tiger would have closed the kitchen by then, so Torrin figured she should get up and eat before going downstairs. She had just started warming up some leftover pizza when Connor MacManus showed up at her door.

"Come in," she smiled, closing the door and fumbling to lock the deadbolt. "Just warming up some pizza, if you're hungry."

She finished toying with the cranky deadbolt on the door and turned right into Connor's kiss.

He hands hovered on her hips until Torrin responded and kissed him back. His arms snaked around her back, pulling her close. Torrin's hands found their way up his arms and met behind his neck. They went on like that for a few minutes before Connor gave her one last kiss and moved his hands back to her hips.

"I'm sorry," he told her in a voice just above a whisper. "Couldn't wait any longer to do that. We … we had a scare tonight, Torrin. Almost got in some real trouble."

She stepped back out of his reach. "What do you mean, trouble? Where's Murphy?"

"He's downstairs, pissin' Aven off," Connor chuckled.

Her pizza forgotten, Torrin crossed her arms over her chest and pushed for more information. "I fail to find the humor in this. You come in here, kiss me for more than I'm worth, tell me you almost got in trouble, and next thing I know, you're joking about Murphy pissing Aven off. Explain yourself, Connor."

He sobered his laughter. "Where would you like me to start?"

Torrin thought it over and decided maybe she didn't want to hear the scary parts first. "Why is Aven upset?"

"Because Murphy's not talking to her."

"Why not?"

"He got his face busted. He doesn't want Aven to worry. He cares for her, Torrin, but he's afraid that she'll see he's hurt now and see how serious his injuries could get one day. Afraid that she won't want him after that."

Torrin swallowed hard. "He should get to know her better. Aven won't run from something like that."

"Would you?" Connor asked.

Torrin shrugged. "Why does it matter?"

"Because you kissed me back," Connor said, raising a careful hand to cup her cheek. "And because when we saw Aven at a glance, then Murph said right away that she was prettiest Irish girl he'd ever seen and nearly fell in love with her then and there, I thought he was crazy – until not too long after that, when I saw you."

Torrin let out a deep breath and pushed his hand away, going into the kitchen to start the microwave again. "I have a boyfriend, Connor."

"I know that," Connor continued. "But I'll be better to you than Gavan is. I'll tell you every day how beautiful you are, and I'll see you every day. I'd wait on you hand and foot, give everything else up – I swear I would. Just give me a chance to show you."

"No."

Her tone left no room for argument. Connor shoved his hands in his pockets and took a seat at the kitchen table.

"What, you think if you wait it out, I'll change my mind? Or that Gavan will come and you'll duel him for my honor?" Torrin snapped.

"They knew who you were, Tori."

Torrin didn't know what caught her more off-guard. No one had ever called her Tori except her mother, and oh, did Torrin miss that woman terribly. It sounded so natural coming from Connor though, and she couldn't imagine her heart skipping a beat over it like it had when Connor said it. On the other hand, she knew who _they _were. Maybe not exactly, but she knew he meant the ones he and Murphy had gone after that night.

She swallowed hard, leaning against the kitchen counter. She had put her pizza on a plate but suddenly found that she had no appetite. "Are they dead? All of them?"

Connor was a bit surprised by her reaction. "They are. We took care of it."

"Who were they?"

He was silent, staring at the table.

"Damn it, tell me who they were!" she yelled.

Connor threw his head back. "Russian mafia."

"How do they know who I am?"

Connor shook his head. "We don't know, exactly, but we know they were waiting for us. They were prepared for us to be there, I mean. We were in a stand-off and they threatened to come here, after you and Aven, if we didn't leave. Murphy rushed one of them when he started talking about raping Aven, and that's when he got it to the face. It was enough distraction for me to start the killing."

"All right. I have to shower before I go down there, so you better go."

"I'm not leaving you alone."

"You said you killed them all," Torrin reminded him.

"Doesn't mean there aren't more – and we don't know how they knew about you. To know that mentioning you girls would get to us, they had to have been watching us. Means they've seen us up here. They know where you live."

Torrin pursed her lips together. "Aven and I know how to take care of ourselves. We don't need you two watching out for us."

"Yes, you do."

She stared him down for a few minutes. "Come with me."

Connor pushed away from the table and followed her back to the bathroom. She opened the cabinet where the linens were kept and removed a false bottom. In the space were several guns and even a couple knives, and ammunition to last for a while.

"We've guns in our rooms too, each of us. So, as you can see, we're prepared for anything."

He wanted to ask her why they had those, how they knew how to take care of the guns and how to use them. It was both her tone and her countenance that let him know this time that the conversation was over.

"All right, then. I'll see you downstairs."

He risked her further anger by leaning in to kiss her cheek before disappearing from the apartment. Torrin waited to hear the door shut. Once it did, she leaned against the bathroom wall, sinking down to the floor. It had taken everything in her not to let herself fall apart with Connor there. Aven had secrets, and so did Torrin. It seemed though, that her secrets may be coming back to haunt her – and Aven. She would have to tell her cousin about this, but not now. They would talk about it later, after getting through this shift at the pub.

In the meantime, she would try to come up with a plan.

.&.

Aven tried the cold shoulder, but it wasn't very successful when Murphy had already been giving her the same treatment. She tried harder, filling only Rocco's drink and not Murphy's. Somehow though, he always had a new drink when needed. Finally, she realized that he was reaching behind the tap, filling his own drink. If she wasn't angry enough before, that sure did the job.

Aven tossed down the rag she had been cleaning with and marched over to where he sat. She got a good hold on his ear and dragged him towards the kitchen, yelling at Rocco behind her to watch out for any other shitheads who might try to get behind her bar.

Once through the kitchen and out the back screen door, Aven let him go. "Damn it! Do you know I ought to call the police on ya, Murph? The hell are you thinking? Are you really _that_ up-ended at me that you can't even ask for a damn drink? Look at me when I'm talking to you!"

Murphy sighed and turned to face her full on, so she could see the side of his face he had kept from her. Her face turned from angry to concerned in a mere moment. From just under his eye, across his cheekbone and back towards his ear was swollen, cut, and bruised. The purples and blues were intense, even in the light of the alleyway. Cautiously, Aven reached up to touch it; Murphy winced, then leaned into her hand just slightly.

"You could have told me, you know."

Murphy let out a deep breath. "No, I couldn't. I've never let anyone get the jump on me. Tonight I did."

"That's not what I meant," Aven said, dropping her hand and let a smile play on her lips.

Murphy raised his brow. "What then?"

"You could have told me … Oh, how did Connor put it? Ah, right. Bewitched. You could have told me that I _bewitched_ you."

"Oh, God," Murphy groaned. "He did not tell you that."

"He did. You _should _have told me, Murph."

The look in her eye and the words she spoke sparked a confidence in him. He reached for the hand that had so tenderly touched the injury on his face and laced his fingers through hers. "Yeah? Why is that?"

"You haven't noticed I'm fond of you?" Aven teased. "Come on, let's get you an ice pack."

She held on to Murphy's hand and pulled him towards the door. In turn, Murphy pulled her back to his chest, backing her quickly against the brick wall. "Surely you're not going to fix me up before I get to kiss you?"

The old-fashioned parts kicked in, and Aven coyly shook her head. "No kisses yet. Ice pack. Then beer – maybe some whiskey. But no kissing."

Connor came down the steps just as they were headed back into the kitchen. He didn't look too happy, but Murphy advised her to leave it alone.

"Hear about it from Torrin," he encouraged.

As she filled a towel with ice, Aven nodded. She certainly intended to hear it from somebody.


	3. Confrontations

Torrin entered the pub through the kitchen door. She could hear the noise of a full house coming from the front of the building; taking a deep breath, she prepared herself to face Connor. He and Murphy must have refrained from telling Aven what had happened because Torrin was sure if her cousin knew that the Russian mafia was aware of their existence and had threatened to come after them, Aven wouldn't still be serving drinks behind the bar, joking around with Connor, Murphy, and Rocco.

"Called Alana to come in here soon. We need to talk," Torrin informed her cousin. Her eyes strayed to Connor who had the good sense to look very disappointed in himself.

Aven shrugged. "All right. Good of her to come back in."

"It is," Torrin agreed before taking a couple orders. "Murph, you've got a good shiner there."

Murphy chuckled, his brain buzzing and no longer concerned with Aven knowing he had been injured doing business. "You should see the other guy."

Aven laughed, but Torrin didn't. She knew too much to find humor in the situation. Feeling impatient about Alana's return to the pub, Torrin left the counter to clean up a little bit out on the floor. Bottles, shot glasses, and plates from the last of the kitchen customers seemed to be everywhere. Like everything else at the moment, it grated her raw nerves and made her want to scream. She shoved trash into the big barrel on wheels, filling a bussing container with the glasses and plates as she went. When the bell over the door announced Alana's arrival, Torrin pushed it all back to the kitchen and waited for Aven.

"All right, my dearest cousin. Tell me what's going on," Aven sighed, heaving up on the counter and swinging her legs.

"Ya won't be so damn cheerful here in a minute when I tell you what's going on," Torrin warned. "What _are _you so cheerful about, anyway?"

"Murphy likes me," Aven replied with a big smile and her biggest school girl impression.

Torrin rolled her eyes. "Did he tell you how he got that black eye?"

Aven's cheerfulness started to dissipate. "I guessed it was from whatever they did tonight. I didn't want to ask questions, once he finally showed me the fuckin' thing."

"The Russian mafia knows about us." She waited to let the statement sink in and received an acceptable facial expression from Aven.

"What?" Aven slid off the counter and pulled a mobile phone from her pocket. "What do you mean, they know about us? And why do they care?"

Torrin recounted everything Connor had told her. "They know who we are, they know where we live, they –"

"Wait," Aven interrupted. "They know who we are in that they know we exist, or they know _who we are_?"

Torrin shook her head. "My guess right now is that they know we exist, but if they're trying to get at the boys, they'll look to find out where we work, who our families are – all of it."

"Jesus, Mary, and Joseph!" Aven exclaimed, pushing the bussing container into the sink. It created a satisfying crash. "I'll make the call. Maybe you should make one, too."

"No," Torrin replied sternly. "We don't make any calls. We start making calls and that throws up red flags. They'll figure out we know something."

"So, what, we take on the whole Russian mafia on our own then?"

Torrin knew that Aven had a point. They had guns, they had ammunition, and the skills necessary to protect themselves. None of that, however, meant that they could take on such a prominent underground organization on their own.

"The boys could help us. They would help us, if we asked."

Aven shook her head. "They nearly got themselves killed tonight over us. We can't ask them to risk their lives again. One of us has to make a call, Tor."

Torrin sighed. Aven was right, but she really didn't want to involve Aven's supports just yet. So, she gave in.

"I'll call when we leave tonight. It'll be early back home, but they'll be awake. Should be anyway." She studied Aven's expression. Her cousin's features had become strained, and her chest was heaving with angry breaths. "I should have waited to tell you, eh?"

Aven shook her head and let her arms drop from where they were crossed over her chest. Her hands balled into fists at her sides as she shook her head. "I'm not upset with you. There is someone I _am _upset with who should have told me all of this shit when he had the fuckin' chance."

Torrin hurried out of the kitchen after her seething cousin. The girl had a temper, that was for certain. No doubt a patron or two, perhaps even the target of her current anger, had purchased whiskey shots for Aven, which would only increase her tendencies towards violence. Murphy was sitting on a barstool, his back towards the kitchen, but Connor saw Aven coming – and must have noticed the look on her face because his eyes grew as big as saucers.

"Watch her!" Torrin called out, still trying to catch up to Aven's angry pace.

Connor stood to get out of the way; Torrin figured he knew he'd get caught up in the whole thing if he didn't move. Aven called for Murphy who turned to her with a smile.

"Hey, here's my Aven!" He reached out to put an arm around her waist, but Aven cocked her arm back and decked him in the eye, just above the first bruise he had received that evening. He lost his balance and fell off the stool, taking a good bump to his backside when he hit the ground. "The hell is the matter with you, girl?"

"You _eejit_!" Aven yelled. "You should have told me!"

"Should have told you what?" Murphy groaned back, trying to pick himself up off the floor.

Aven lunged at him again, but Rocco got a hold of her while Connor helped his brother up. Torrin just stood by; perhaps it was best to let this anger play out. She watched as Aven struggled to get at Murphy again.

"You told me I should hear it from Torrin," Aven growled. "No, I should have heard it from you. It was enough to risk your life getting angry at them for me, but that's where you draw the line, eh? Well you can get away and pull a wire with that shit!"

Connor looked to Torrin who shrugged. "Better take him home before she kills him. Then we'll have a real mess on our hands."

"This is bullshit!" Murphy yelled as Connor and Rocco dragged him out of the pub.

The two women watched him go, then told the spectators to get back to what they were doing, the night was still on. Torrin looked to Aven, who was re-securing the ponytail behind her head.

"Got it out of your system then?" Torrin asked.

"For now," Aven muttered. "Just make the call when we get home so this shit can be done with as soon as possible. I've got other things to worry about."

"Will do," Torrin promised, looking towards the door.

She caught Connor's eye as he struggled to pull Murphy out of the pub and direct him somewhere else. She couldn't help but think again of the kiss. Yes, she had kissed him back. Yes, she had liked it – hell, it had nearly made her knees give out. Gavan had never kissed her like that, and maybe that's why Connor scared the hell out of her. He made her feel things that Gavan never had; no one had ever made her feel those things, actually. The truth was, there were reasons why Torrin had chosen to stay in the States after high school, and Connor's lifestyle fell too close to those reasons.

The truth was, _that _was the reason why falling for him scared the hell out of her.

.&.

The girls skipped coffee in the pub that night, opting instead to make a pot of strong, black coffee at home. They sat at the kitchen table and sipped at the steaming beverage while Torrin called home.

"A call from Boston. Couldn't be my long-lost daughter, now could it?" Belinda Hannigan teased.

Torrin smiled, her heart breaking with longing for her mother. "Could be, and it is. That troublesome niece of yours is here with me, too."

Belinda gasped. "Oh, Lord Jesus. The two of you aren't calling from jail, are ya?"

Torrin couldn't help but to laugh. "Not this time, Ma. How've you been?"

"Just fine, dear. Keeping busy with a new cooking class on the weekends. Your father's been off on business a lot lately, so I just keep myself occupied until he comes home again."

Torrin grew quiet. She knew what her mother meant when she said her father had been away often on business, and Torrin hated to hear it. She hated thinking of her mother alone and hated thinking of her father involved in any of that mess. But, it had been that way all of her life, so there was no turning back on that knowledge now.

"Tori?"

"Yeah, Ma, I'm here. You know, if you're ever lonely, you can come here and see us. See the pub, see Boston."

Belinda sighed. "Perhaps I'll do that soon. I'll speak to your father and let you know if we make arrangements."

"Perfect," Torrin grinned. "Speaking of Da, is he around?"

"You've called early enough, he's enjoying his coffee and breakfast right here next to me. I'll pass the phone over – I'm off to the shower and then work. We'll speak soon, dear."

"Love you, Ma."

"Love you. Here's your Da."

Torrin waited just a few minutes before the gruff but loving voice of Peter Hannigan came on the line. "Hello, Red."

"Hello, Da." Torrin tried to remember the reason for the call, and it kept her from smiling at her father's nickname for her. "How are ya?"

"Just fine. Keeping busy, trying to take care of your mother. There's nothing I wouldn't do to keep her happy, you know that."

_Including criminal activity, _Torrin thought, but said aloud, "Hope to find someone as sweet as you someday."

"You will. Now come on. Your ma's out of the room. You and Aven tell your dear ole Da what's going on. You're calling at this time, must be important."

Torrin let out a deep breath and put him on speakerphone. "I've put you on the speaker, Da. Yes, we need to talk to you about something. We're a little concerned that the Russian mafia may be looking at backgrounds on both of us."

Peter was silent for a few moments. "And how did this predicament happen?"

"Nothing we've done, Uncle," Aven assured. "Some regulars are the bar are … we've gotten close with them, and the Russians are not so happy with them at the moment."

"Taking your work home?"

"Nothing like that." Torrin rolled her eyes, even though her rebuttal wasn't entirely true. "They're good friends. Anyway, the point is, the Russians may come to us to get to them."

"I'll see what I can do to cover tracks for you both. Unless, Aven, you've employed your own connections to clear your history."

Aven looked at Torrin before answering. "I haven't. Decided maybe they don't need to know about this yet."

"That'll need to stay the case if I'm to figure this out for you. I'll also need names of the men who've brought this to you."

Aven shook her head. "They don't need to be dealt with."

"Yeah, Aven already took care of it," Torrin teased. Her humor was finally coming back around now that she knew her father had control of the situation. "Punched out one of 'em tonight and kicked 'em both out of the pub."

"They'll come back, no doubt with Russians on their tails," Peter warned. "Listen, girls, let me make some calls while I can do it in privacy as Belinda's in the shower."

"Maybe she shouldn't know about this. I'll be in big trouble if my parents find out this is going on. Supposed to be here to get away from things like this," Aven reminded him.

"Yeah, I know. Let me make the calls and I'll get back to you."

They ended the call there, finished their coffee, then decided to watch the sun come up before getting a few hours of sleep. Aven pulled a cigarette from behind her ear and lit it once they were seated on the balcony of the apartment.

"I hate that shit. Can't see how you stand to have your lungs burnin' like that." Torrin wrinkled her nose in disgust.

"It's a good burn," Aven replied. She took a long drag and held it in for just a few seconds before exhaling. "You know, if the Russians are coming, we're sitting ducks up on this balcony."

"True, but you know the drill. Better to play dumb."

"Aye." Another drag. "Think I took it too far, punching Murph like that?"

Torrin laughed and shook her head. "Honestly, Av, wouldn't expect anything the least bit different from ya. He deserved it."

Aven nodded. "Are you going to tell Gavan about the Russians?"

Torrin thought for a few minutes. "Better he doesn't know, I think."

Aven nodded; Torrin hadn't expected that stoic expression from her. "Suppose you're right about that. Why don't you just give him up, Tor? He's no good for ya."

"It's like you and those cigarettes, then?"

"Fair point," Aven ceded. "Except these I only indulge in once in a while. Maybe more often since Murphy came around. But then I've been drinking more, too."

"I know what that leads to – and if no one else in the pub knew, they know now, after you hauled off on poor Murphy."

"Poor Murphy? Why do you have sympathy just for him? _Poor Connor _was looking like someone ran over his puppy when he came down from the apartment."

Torrin groaned. "Right. Probably because he kissed me, and I kissed him back.

Had that information not come right as Aven was inhaling off of her cigarette, she may not have choked on the smoke. As it was, she finally put the damn thing out and tried to catch her breath. While her cousin composed herself, Torrin finally got the story of the kiss off her chest.

"Failed to mention that little bit when you told me earlier what was going on, didn't ya?" Aven said. "Torrin. It's all right to leave Gavan for someone else. Were he a better man, I might tell you different. He's not though. Not by far."

Torrin shook her head and checked the incoming text message on her mobile. "Da says we're to go to church today. And why are you on Connor's side, anyway? Him being around would mean Murphy would be around."

Aven rolled her eyes. "I'm aware of that. I'll get over being mad at Murphy, no doubt the next time I'm sober and I see him, damn it all. Never had this weak of a heart before."

"'Bout time someone tried to tame you," Torrin teased, standing up and stretching. "Although with Murphy MacManus, I daresay the two of you will just find trouble together."

"Perhaps," Aven smiled, a pink blush decorating the tops of her cheeks. "Guess we better catch a little shut eye before we go see the Father."

"Suppose you're right."

They headed off for their separate bedrooms. Once in clean, comfortable clothes and staring at the ceiling over her bed, Torrin's mind again drifted to Connor. She had no clue how Gavan would react if she tried to end it at all, let alone to be with someone else.

_I'll get past this first, _she told herself. _First we'll deal with this Russian thing, then I'll think about Gavan and Connor. _

Perhaps she could put off thinking about Gavan, but that morning for Torrin, there was no putting off thoughts of Connor MacManus.

**A/N: Just wanted to thank everyone who has favorited/followed this story. Means a lot! Anddddd I have to give special thanks to **_**crazililwabbit **_**for all the help with this story and for inspiring Torrin's character. Just like in the old days, right?**

**I set up some Polyvore sets for this story, so as soon as I post this chapter, I'm going to try and figure out how to post the link in my profile. Fingers crossed. Check 'em out if you have some time. **

**Thanks for stopping by!**


	4. In Nomine Patris

Aven drove to the church. Torrin sat in the passenger seat, nervously chewing on her bottom lip.

"See, if you smoked, you could give your lip a break." Aven's joke landed just as flat as her tone; both girls were too tense to see the humor in just about anything right then.

She parked behind the old building, pushing the gear into park and glancing at Torrin. The girl was still chewing on her lip.

"Ever think maybe this Russian thing is just the first ripple in knowin' those boys?" Aven asked.

"What do you mean?" Torrin asked with a frown.

"I mean, it could always be like this. We get in with them, there's always gonna be someone comin' after us."

Torrin nodded. "Same shit, different day, Av. Come on; Father's waitin' on us."

Aven nodded and turned off the ignition. She checked her rearview mirror to make sure her hair and make-up were presentable, and climbed out of the car. She smoothed down her dress and pushed the button to lock the car as they walked to the front of the church.

A mass was ending when the girls entered, so once they had crossed themselves with holy water from the basin just inside the door, they kneeled in a back pew. There were certainly a few things to pray about in their lives.

The mass ended fifteen minutes after they arrived. Torrin nudged Aven's shoulder, and she broke from her prayer. Moving to the front pew and kneeling down again, they waited patiently for the church to clear out and the priest to return.

"My daughters," he greeted with a smile and hand on each of their cheeks. "I spoke with Peter this morning. His company will support you, and a contact has been designated. You'll meet your contact late this evening, here in the church – for safety purposes, of course."

"Aye," they replied in unison.

"Go in peace to love and serve the Lord."

"Amen."

Again in unison, Torrin and Aven bowed their heads, crossed themselves, and stood. They exchanged glances and bee-lined out of the pew.

"Aven, would you stay behind a minute, please?" the priest asked.

"Of course," she replied cautiously. "Go ahead, Tor. I'll meet you at the back."

Torrin moved away to allow them privacy, and to light some of the candles at the altar. The Father moved Aven even further back toward the door, rousing some concern in her.

"You really don't want Torrin to hear this," Aven noted.

"Well, it is my understanding that Torrin is not informed of your true intentions in returning to the States."

Aven drew in a sharp breath and shook her head. "As far as she knows, I've returned to get away from a … project that went bad. Oh, Father, please tell me our contact isn't …"

"It's not," the priest assured her. "But he is at the top of the chain here in America, so he will find out. I suggest you tell her before he does find out – your new cohorts as well."

"It isn't that easy," Aven whispered. "She'll be _so _angry. She waited a long time to get away from that life. She'll have expected me to tell her right off."

"You couldn't," the priest reminded her. "You've done what you can to protect her, now you must let others take over."

Aven didn't like hearing that, so she simply nodded. The priest moved on to his next task for the day, and Aven waited patiently for Torrin to finish with her candles before again dipping into the basin of holy water and crossing herself. Just as she pulled on the door to open it and allow Torrin through, somebody pushed from the other side.

"Sorry, didn't know – oh. Hello."

Aven nodded a hello back. "Murph, Connor. How are ya?"

"Better after a night's rest, for sure," Connor answered. "You girls both look lovely."

Aven looked behind her, where Torrin was trying her best not to look tense. "Aye. Our parents always raised us that whatever time you spend in the church, be it little or long, you're to dress properly. We had a short meeting with the Father, but we'll be on our way now."

"Wait," Murphy spoke up. "Will ya be home later, for a talk?"

Aven didn't want to talk to him, but seeing his bruise from the Russian mob soldier exacerbated by the punch she had thrown to his face the night before softened her heart. "You know my hours and where I'll be. See you later, boys."

Torrin nodded to Connor, and then the girls were on their way. Aven unlocked the doors and they climbed into her car, ready for another pot of coffee.

"Well, I'd hoped that we wouldn't see them till this evening," Torrin admitted.

"I'd hoped it as well," Aven sighed as she pulled out into traffic. "Also hoped that meeting with the priest would be more informative."

"Aye, but what can we do. We're at the mercy of Da's 'company'," Torrin replied, scoffing at that last word. "Some company."

Aven nodded. The guilt over the secret she was keeping from Torrin was beginning to consume her. It was true, things would break soon and her cousin might find out, but until then, Aven hoped to keep the reason for her presence in the States a secret. In order to make certain she had more time, she waited for Torrin to go down and open the pub before making a private phone call.

When the call was completed, she hung up. That was done, and Gavan wouldn't be a problem for several days now.

.&.

Torrin dropped her mobile on the desk and shook her head. The call had been from Gavan, letting her know that he was locked up, didn't know why, and would not be allowed to bail out. Torrin had drilled him, even claimed to leave him – it would have been a good out – but he swore up and down he had no idea what he could have been picked up for.

Sighing, she poked her head around to the front of the pub. "Hey, Alana. I'm going up to talk to Aven real quick. Be back soon."

Alana waved her acknowledgment, so Torrin went out through the kitchen door and up the stairs to the apartment. Aven was in the bathroom, combing through her wet hair.

"Enjoy a nice long shower, did ya?" Torrin asked, taking a seat on the edge of the tub.

"I did. Should have done it before going to the church this mornin', but I was so tired."

"Same." Torrin played with her fingers for a few moments before continuing. "I've just gotten a call from Gavan. Police picked him up, but he doesn't know why, and they aren't letting him bail out."

Aven set her brush down and faced Torrin. "All right."

"I mean, can they do that?"

"I don't know American law so well as I used to, but it could be they're waiting on a specific detective to come in, or they're stalling for more evidence to show up for whatever it is."

Torrin shook her head. "I even threatened to leave him, and he still wouldn't budge. I don't think he did anything worth being arrested over. Is there anything you can do?"

Aven picked up her brush, but didn't speak for what Torrin felt was almost too long of a pause. "Not that I would for that selfish son of a bitch anyway, but no, I can't."

Torrin nodded; she has suspected as much. Yet, she couldn't keep herself from asking. Why she cared so much, she wasn't even sure. She had one foot out the door on her relationship with Gavan, and something with Connor was brewing not too far in the future, she was certain. Her head and her heart were muddled over the circumstances, and this potential threat from the Russians wasn't helping any.

"Ya carrying on a gun on you at all times?" Aven asked.

"O' course," Torrin replied, patting the holster on her hip. "I've got to give myself at least a fighting chance."

"When was the last time you shot?"

"Been a few years," Torrin admitted.

Aven nodded. "Thought so. We'll go in the next few days down to the gun range and break the rust off of ya."

"Sounds fine," Torrin agreed. She went back down to the pub, where the lunch rush was beginning. Thankful for the distraction, Torrin spent the next several hours immersed in food orders and clearing tables.

.&.

Aven needed to talk to someone. She needed to get some things off of her chest, but as they weren't confessions, she didn't feel like it was appropriate to go back to the church and speak with the priest. Any other time she would go to Torrin, but this wasn't something her cousin needed to know just yet – or maybe Aven wasn't ready to deal with the probable backlash of Torrin finding out yet. Whatever the case, Torrin was not a plausible option as confidante.

She could call home, speak with one or both of her parents, or her brothers even. She could call the headquarters back in Ireland, speak with her boss there. Against her better judgment though and despite still being somewhat infuriated with him, Aven really wanted to talk to Murphy.

All of their conversations over coffee had been exactly what she felt like she had missed over the last years. Someone she could tell anything to, without judgment, and who would share things with her, too. Someone who could be so caught up in her and with whom she could be so caught up in that they would start talking and not realize how much time had passed until the sun started to come up.

Well, that had happened with Murphy. Groaning, she grabbed her car keys and texted Torrin that she was going out, would be back in time for her shift at the pub. After her shower she had donned her church attire again – the fitted dress with the hemline just above her knees, the nude peep-toe heels, and the pretty earrings her father had given her for her sixteenth birthday. Instead of a prudish bun, she let her long hair fall down her back, and left behind the blazer she had worn over her dress that morning. There was a black leather motorcycle jacket in her car if she needed it.

It took Aven a while longer to find the place than she had anticipated. The three men had tried to describe to her once where the place was at, but she had never been there and hadn't navigated around South Boston much outside of the pub and the cathedral. Once parked in front though, Aven sat behind the wheel for a moment, taking a deep breath and trying to prepare her speech; after all, she had some apologies to make.

Force of habit had caused her to notice the gray Lincoln parked across the street and caddy-corner to where she had parked her black Charger, but she hadn't thought any more of it until she got to the apartment door and noticed that it was left open slightly. She could hear voices inside that didn't belong to Connor, Murphy, or Rocco. Carefully and with her senses on high alert, she withdrew the small gun from a holster around her thigh, made sure the safety was off, and prepared to go in shooting if necessary.

"Simply tell us what you know and we'll be on our way," a large, bald, Russian man was saying.

"I doubt that'd be the way of it," Connor refuted.

"Right," Murphy agreed. "So why should we tell you anything at all?"

The Russian man sighed. Slowly creeping closer to the door, Aven could make two other men with him now, holding the brothers while the leader questioned them. She couldn't see any new injuries, but she doubted that would last long. Sure enough, just following the sound of the sigh, was the sound of a gun hammer cocking back.

"This can be painless for you, or it can be very, very painful," the Russian continued as he paced the floor. "Now, you. Tell me the information I wish to know, or I will shoot your brother first. No more chances."

The gun was pressing against Connor's forehead. Murphy was struggling against his captor, cursing up a storm in Irish. Aven let out a deep breath and made her move. She nearly ran into the apartment, placing the business end of her gun at the base of the Russian's neck.

"_Strelyalki, chto chelovek budet poslednim nerazumnym resheniyem vy delayete, ser. Pust' oni idut, i ya dam vam zhit'_." Hoping that speaking in the man's native tongue would reinforce her point, Aven informed him that shooting Connor would be the last mistake he would ever make, but she would let him live if he let the brothers go.

The man turned slowly; Aven didn't budge. Her gun was now at the base of his throat, and she was staring him in the eye.

"Well, if it isn't the little _suka_ I was asking about," the man chuckled. "I love it when my work does itself for me. Why don't you tell me where your little mafia cousin is, then we can make this easy for everybody, get it over with now?"

"_Bog amach as an mbealach_." This time speaking in Irish, she hoped that Connor and Murphy were not too stunned by her actions to just do as she said, and move out of the way.

Although it did take a glance at each other for them to process it – a look Aven would later find out was reassurance for the brothers that this was really happening – both men found the strength necessary to pull free from the men holding them.

The first shot took out the leader's throat. The second went through the forehead of the man on her right. Aven's third and final shot tore open the heart of the third man. Within seconds, she had rendered all three Russian crime soldiers dead.

Closing her eyes, Aven let out a deep breath. She raised her right hand, touched it to her forehead, her chest, her left shoulder, her right shoulder.

"Forgive me, Father," she whispered to herself. She knew she was visibly shaking, and it made her furious – which, in turn, caused her to shake more. It was not the first time she had shot her gun, not even the first time she had killed a man. It was, however, the first time she had killed anyone outside of orders.

"Ya all right, Aven?" Murphy asked moving to her side.

She put a hand on his arm to balance herself. "I am. Are you boys all right? Where's Rocco?"

"He was on his way to the pub to get us some lunch," Connor explained.

Aven nodded. "Right. I'll call over, tell Torrin to hold him there. You boys should gather up some things. Best not to be around here for the next few days."

Connor moved to follow her suggestion, but Murphy paused. "Aven, my girl. I'm real grateful that you saved our asses just now and all, but there are some things he was saying that I think we deserve some answers about. You and Torrin both have some explaining to do."

The time had come far before she was ready. "Aye, suppose we do. Get your things and let's get back to the pub. We'll talk at the apartment."

**A/N: Well, there was some hinting in this chapter about Aven's and Torrin's backgrounds, but more will be revealed next chapter. This thing with the Russians won't last too long, but another issue will come up. And some fluff soon, I think. **

**Thanks for reading and, please, leave some reviews if you read! I have anonymous reviews enabled – it would just be nice to have the feedback! **


	5. Coffee & Cigarettes

"_Mharaigh mé trí Rúiseach."_

_I killed three Russians_. Torrin had grown up learning English and Irish simultaneously, but she still questioned if she had heard her cousin correctly. As it was, Aven was sitting on one of the barstools with a calm, relaxed smile on her face. The tension was there though, in her eyes.

Torrin continued the conversation in Irish. "How did that happen? Did they come here?"

"No. I went to see Murphy, and the Russians were there. They were pressing the boys for information about us, and the leader put a gun to Connor's head."

"That's why you wanted Roc to stay. So he would be safe."

"Safer here than there," Aven replied. "They're all upstairs now. When things slow to where Alana can keep up, you should come upstairs, too. We all need to talk."

"Aye, we need a plan."

Aven shook her head. "Not about that. Yet."

"What then?"

"The Russian called you my mafia cousin."

Torrin was now certain that her Irish was too rusty and she had not heard Aven correctly. In English now, she asked, "Would you repeat that in English? Don't think I heard ya correctly, and I don't use my Irish nearly as often as you do back home."

Aven looked around the bar. "I don't think you want me to repeat it to where everyone understands."

Her fears confirmed, Torrin nodded but said nothing. Aven moved back to the kitchen; Torrin could hear her exchanging greetings and superficial conversation with Tiger. The late lunch rush would begin soon. At least that gave her some time to think some things over. Time, but not enough time, she felt.

"Think they'll put it off until coffee?" Torrin suggested, leaning her head through the kitchen doorframe.

"We may not have that kind of time," Aven replied.

"We have enough time," Connor spoke up, coming through the kitchen door with Murphy and Rocco. "It's possible no one even knows those guys are dead yet. Best not to raise flags by leaving the pub in the middle of the day."

Aven nodded and headed up for the apartment, Murphy hot on her heels. Torrin stood back, fumbling with her hands. Why was it that Connor suddenly made her nervous all the time? _Because he's taken you by surprise before and even though you think you hate surprises, you liked it coming from him. You want it to happen again, _her mind explained. She rolled her eyes at herself as she went back to stocking clean glasses under the counter and in cabinets behind the bar.

"Need any help?" Rocco offered.

Torrin stopped and raised her brow. "You two are going to help me out here today?"

"Sure, why not?" Connor agreed with a coy smile.

Both men shed their jackets, rolled up their sleeves, and got to work behind the bar. Torrin was freed up to check on tables, help Alana, and even assisted Tiger in the kitchen. When the bar was slow, Connor came out to bus tables. An hour-and-a-half passed, bringing Aven and Murphy down to help, too.

Despite the dark cloud looming over them, the group enjoyed a calm, easy day in the bar.

.&.

They stood awkwardly in the living room for a full couple of minutes before either of them spoke.

"You've got blood on your dress, love." Murphy gestured to a spot of blood just below the waistline of Aven's dress.

"Oh …" Aven hurried to the kitchen, wet a rag, and tried frantically to wipe the blood away. "It's not coming off …"

She began to really scrub at her dress; Murphy gently took the rag from her hands and threw it in the sink. Then he put a finger under her chin, raising those green eyes to his blue ones.

"First time you've killed a man?" he asked. To his surprise, however, she shook her head.

Pulling her face away from him, Aven leaned over the sink. She felt sick. "Far from it. I suppose you'll find out more later, but it's kind of my line of work."

Ignoring the obvious questions for the time being, Murphy asked, "Why's this one different then?"

"I don't know," she whispered. As she turned to face him, a tear rolled slowly down her cheek, followed by others. She didn't bother to wipe them away or trying to stop them. "I've been in these situations, where I either shoot or let someone else die. Important people. But never anyone important to me … Not like this."

Murphy nodded. "Not when someone you care about had their life on the line."

Aven nodded. The tears were coming fast, and now she swiped at them as though they were burning her skin. A couple of choked sobs escaped her throat, and she struggled to hold back more.

"Aven, come here," Murphy said, reaching out for her.

She shook her head. "You don't understand, Murph. I stepped into that apartment for _me_. I don't know what I'd do if you boys got hurt. If you … you know. Can't remember the last time I've been able to trust anybody but Torrin. When we were growing up …"

Her resolve crumbled and the sobs came one after the other. She buried her face in her hands and turned away from him, hoping he would just leave. After a few seconds she thought he had, but then she felt strong, warm arms encircling her.

Murphy pulled her back against his chest; Aven didn't have to move. She wanted to turn and bury her face in his shoulder, breathe in his smell and listen to his heart. A heart that was still alive, still beating, because she had taken action. She stepped into the apartment and killed those Russians because she didn't know now how to live without the brothers in her life. Or Rocco, for that matter.

Yes, all three men were important to her, but especially this one here now. Nevermind _I'm fond of you_ like she had told him before she punched him. Aven Donaghue had fallen in love with Murphy MacManus, she guessed around the time that they had stayed up past sunrise talking. Never having been in love, the thought scared the shit out of her. Still, she just couldn't sit by and not tell him anything anymore.

Taking control of her sobs, she turned to face him, throwing her arms around his neck. "You can't ever leave me, Murph. I went to the apartment because I needed to talk and you were the one I wanted to talk to about everything. My mind is always ten frames ahead in the worst case scenario. It's how I'm so good at what I do. You were dead on the floor in my mind. That's why I killed them."

He smiled to himself. "Then you're a girl after my own heart, love."

Aven hugged him tighter. "You'll never leave me then?"

"Never," he promised, his voice husky. He pushed his face into her hair, kissing her neck and breathing in her smell.

She pulled away, wiping her eyes. "I better change my clothes. Then I may rest a bit before going back down to the pub."

"I'll stay with ya."

She gave him the first hint of a smile he had seen since they came up to the apartment. God, he was so in love with her. He remembered the exact moment he realized it, but it had scared him. Connor was right when he used the word _bewitched_. Yes, Murphy had been taken with Aven the moment he laid eyes on her, but once he got to know her, it changed everything. She was just like him. He never thought it would happen that fast, but then again, he had never met a girl like Aven.

When she came back out, Murphy was seated on the couch. Aven wrapped a throw blanket around her shoulders and laid down with her head on his lap. Murphy ran his fingers through her hair while the TV played in the background.

"I told my mother about you today," he told her.

"You did?" Aven's voice was sleepy, but he could hear her smile.

"I did," he confirmed, then continued as he watched her fall asleep. "I told her that I'd met a pretty Irish girl, with waves of dark hair and eyes the color of the hills of Ireland."

"That's quite poetic, Murph," her sleepy voice teased.

He chuckled. "Go to sleep, ya little brat."

.&.

Torrin had the pot of coffee ready once all the customers had cleared out. The girls had gone to the church, met with their contact, and were assured that things were safe for them, at least for the time being. Their contact was even aware of Aven killing the Russian men who had threatened the brothers earlier, but that had already been smoothed out. It all seemed too easy to Aven, but Torrin reminded her not to look a gift horse in the mouth.

Rocco locked the front door, and they all sat around one of the tables.

"Just start from the beginning," Rocco prompted the girls. "We're listening."

Aven nudged Torrin while she lit a cigarette. "You start, then."

Torrin reached for the pack of cigarettes in front of her cousin. "Even I'll take one of these if we're going to be digging into all this shit." She took time to light it, wincing a little as the smoke burned down her throat and into her lungs. "Best to start at the very beginning then. You know that my ma and Aven's da are siblings. Her father introduced my parents to each other."

"Maybe you oughta back up and tell them how the fathers met," Aven interrupted.

"Right. There's the punch line, isn't it?" She took a deep drag off her cigarette, exhaling the poison. "Our fathers were gophers for the Irish mafia at the time. When we were born two and three years later, they had been moved up to soldiers. Over the years, they got moved up even higher. Aven's father was able to move on to other things and decrease his involvement as we got older, but my father – my father went all the way to the top. The only men who are above him now are men so close to dying they've probably seen the face of God."

Rocco raised his brow. "Your dad is head of the fucking Irish mafia?"

"More or less," Torrin admitted quietly. "It's not something I'm proud of. I hated that life. We were always lying for him, covering our tracks. I can't stand the sound of silence. It was only ever silent in our house when things got really bad. It meant that people could come for us, or I would be sent off to my grandparents for some indefinite amount of time, not knowing if my parents were alive or dead or what. Both of our families came here to get away from the heat of things for about five years, when we were thirteen and fourteen. After high school, I chose to stay here. I didn't want to be part of it anymore."

"Fair enough." Connor put a hand on her arm. "It's not who you are, though. You've made a different life for yourself."

She sent him a silent 'thank you' in the form of a smile. "In a nutshell, that's my story. I know how to take care of myself because I was forced to learn growing up. Never knew what was going to happen. I don't tell anyone because, like you said, it's not who I am. I'm a business owner, and I do things right."

Aven, knowing her cousin well, handed her cousin another cigarette. "Well told."

"Yeah, well, now you get to tell yours," Torrin returned, lighting the new cigarette.

"Thanks for the reminder." Aven poured another cup of coffee and lit another cigarette. Torrin had no idea what was coming next, and it wasn't going to be pretty when she found out. "My upbringing wasn't so immersed in mafia life as Torrin's. Mind ya, we never wanted for anything, either of us. My father taught me and my brothers how to shoot a gun at a young age, how to fight, how to think on our feet. I always loved it, the times he taught us those things. I was good at it because, like I told Murphy earlier, my mind is always ten frames ahead, it seems."

"What, like a fuckin' psychic?" Rocco asked.

Aven snorted. "Hardly. I just think of the possibilities faster. Anyway, it made me good at it. When I went back to Ireland after high school, I was recruited by an … organization. They wanted younger recruits who weren't made for the military but not necessarily for higher education, either. He's never come out and said it, but I think my father had something to do with them coming to find me."

"So, what, like CIA or something?" Murphy questioned.

"Something like that," Aven shrugged. "About six months ago, I came back to the States. Torrin was getting ready to purchase the bar, so I offered to go in with her. I'd done some bartending before I worked full-time for the organization, and had the experience she needed to make sure the place was sound."

"Not that I'm complaining, but what made you come back?"

Aven looked over at Torrin. She took a deep drag of the cigarette and then laid it in the ash tray to let it burn out. She pushed her coffee mug back from the edge of the table and took a deep breath.

"I was notified by the organization who employs me that there was a section of the mafia here in Boston causing some noise that we needed to keep an eye on. I got my background information and recognized the shot-caller here in Boston. Everything else fell into place, and here I am."

Torrin's cheeks were pink and anger burned in her eyes. "Who was the guy?"

"It's not important," Aven told her. "What's important is that we've figured out this shit with the Russians –"

In a rare showing of any anger at all, let alone extreme anger, Torrin stood and flipped the table over. "Fucking A, Aven! Tell me who the hell it is!"

"Gavan," Aven finally admitted, standing within feet of Torrin. The volume of her voice grew with irritation as she spoke. "It was Gavan _fucking _McConnelly, all right? The man you've been seeing is calling the shots for every goddamn Irish asshole in Boston. Maybe even a bigger area than that. I took the case to look after you, Tor! If he found out that you were Peter Hannigan's daughter, my God, how he would use you to get to the top! You don't even see that!"

Torrin didn't reply. There was a moment of calm before the storm before she rushed Aven, tackling her cousin to the ground. Not to be outdone, Aven quickly maneuvered on top of Torrin in an effort to defend herself. Rocco moved to separate them, but the twins stopped him.

"Let them fight it out," Connor advised.

Two sets of fists and two sets of legs and feet were flying around, landing with hard thuds and drawing blood from the other girl. They wrestled around the bar floor, cursing in Irish and trying their best to be the winner of the fight.

"Cat fight," Rocco mumbled.

"This ain't no cat fight," Murphy noted. "Not one of 'em has pulled hair or scratched the whole time."

Connor chuckled. "All right, gents, let's break 'em up."

It took Connor and Rocco to pull Torrin away while Murphy got a good hold on Aven. They stopped fighting, but it didn't stop the yelling.

"I did it to protect you!" Aven yelled. "You could be held hostage, drugged out, or worse, do ya know that? I was in the middle of a serious project, Torrin, and I dropped everything to come here and make sure you were safe. Why can't you see that I did this for you?"

Torrin's breathing slowed; she pulled away from Connor and Rocco. She wiped the blood from her nose and moved forward towards Aven. Aven loosed herself from Murphy's hold and stood firm, waiting for another attack.

Instead, Torrin leaned forward and hugged her cousin. She didn't speak, just waited for Aven to recover and hug her back.

"Thank you," Torrin said quietly. "For looking out for me. For caring enough to look out for me."

Aven nodded. "You're welcome."

**A/N: I forgot to mention before that all my translations are just from Google Translate, so if they're incorrect … I apologize. **

**Thanks for stopping by to read!**


	6. Black Sheep

Aven yawned and stretched, giving up on going back to sleep. Whatever ruckus was coming from the front room of the apartment was enough to rouse her from bed.

In the few weeks since the mishap with the Russians, life seemed to flow must smoother. After a couple of night sleeping with their limbs draped over the furniture in the front room, the brothers and Rocco had found a new loft apartment. It was plain but roomy and just around the corner from the pub. When the three of them weren't carrying out God's will, they were helping out at the pub.

Torrin had ended her relationship with Gavan shortly after she and Aven came clean about their lives. Connor had yet to win her over, but he sure was giving it his all. At least once a week he brought her flowers, frequently made her dinner, and always walked her home after coffee – even as close as the apartment was located. Aven thought maybe Torrin was close to giving in to him, but for now seemed content to work and run the pub.

With Gavan out of Torrin's life, Aven had taken another step back from her work. She was now serving orders to monitor activity on the Irish mafia in Boston, but had no orders that gave her an actual objective. With the help of Rocco and the boys, who heard everything, and her own reconnaissance runs, she did her job with the leisure of helping to run the pub and just enjoy her life. It hadn't been that way for a while. For the first time ever, she was afforded the luxury of a dating relationship, something she and Murphy began the same night she and Torrin told all.

She smiled to herself, thinking how great life was, now that she was really living it. Her smile grew as she padded to the living room.

"Uncle Peter!" Aven exclaimed, throwing her arms around the older man. "I didn't know you were coming!"

"Just wanted to surprise you two gals," he replied, releasing her from their hug. "I'm hearing a lot of things back home of what you two are up to here in Boston."

Aven's eyes met Torrin's, confirming what Peter Hannigan knew. "Well, it's been adventurous, to say the least."

"Torrin's got a pot of coffee on. Come on, and we'll talk."

Aven followed instructions, but she didn't want to. Her uncle had, of course, protested most out of anyone when the family found out how she was making her living. Although she had been able to make it through her first year of work under the cover of her pub job back home, when the truth came out, most of their concerns had been for her safety. Her uncle, however, had been most concerned with how her job was going to affect his business. She assured him that the agency held nothing her family did against her. She would just be monitored that much more closely.

"It's been brought to my attention that several Russians are dead, and that it may tie back to us," Peter began.

Aven sipped at the black liquid in her cup. "No, that won't be tied back to you. If anything it would be tied back to my organization."

Peter frowned, then understanding flooded his features. "You mean to tell me that _you_ killed them, Aven?"

"Never said I was proud of it," she mumbled. "I went to see Murphy, and the Russians were there. They had Connor at gunpoint –"

"Who are Connor and Murphy?" Peter interrupted her.

"Just some friends, Da," Torrin replied when Aven stumbled over that one. "They were good friends of Doc McGinty, who sold me the pub. Well, they're friends of mine, Murphy and Aven …"

"We're dating," Aven finished, glaring at her cousin. "I'm twenty-seven and I'm dating someone. Let's deal with it. It's not like Connor and Torrin aren't –"

"_Ciúin!_" Torrin bid her cousin to be quiet.

Aven laughed, but Peter ignored her hinting. "How well do you know these boys?"

In one secret glance exchanged between the two of them, Torrin and Aven agreed not to disclose the nature of the brothers' work. "They've been working at the pub, Da. They're good men."

"I'll have my say on it when I meet them, I suppose."

Both girls held their tongues. There was no use in arguing with him; when Aven's own father wasn't around, her uncle was his proxy. What he said went, and her father generally stood behind his brother-in-law's word.

"So you killed all three of them yourself?" Peter continued.

Aven nodded. "I did."

"How?"

She swallowed. "I shot them."

Aven rolled her eyes, her anger flaring. "I was struggling with some things – you know like coming here to watch out for Torrin when she started dating Gavan and he turned out to be the lead mafia guy over here? Something you knew about and neglected to even tell her. I went to talk to Murphy because, unlike the majority of my family, he doesn't care about what I've done or who I work for. I went to talk to him and the Russians were there, asking after _us_. I killed them to protect Connor and Murphy, and Rocco – he's an Italian, by the way – and I killed them to protect Torrin and to protect myself. Any other questions, Uncle, or can I get in the shower now?"

Peter just stared at her. Torrin's eyes were glazing over with tears; Aven knew she had taken things a step too far, but she was tired of getting the third degree from her uncle.

"Try not to kick his ass like you did mine when you found out," Aven cautioned her as she disappeared from the room.

.&.

Torrin looked at her father in disbelief. "I can't believe you knew."

"Torrin, you're a big girl. It's not my job anymore to make sure that you know who you're dating," Peter defended.

"You're my father!" she returned. "You're supposed to protect me!"

"There was nothing to protect you from! Gavan is just like me – he wasn't going to hurt you."

"Until he just didn't come home or disappeared or found out that you were my father and used me to go further up the chain."

Aven came out of the shower and slammed her bedroom door behind her. Peter pointed in her direction. "_She _is the reason why you think this way. That cousin of yours has gotten into you head!"

"No, Da, _I _got into my head," Torrin shot back. "Why'd you think I stayed after high school instead of going back to Ireland with ya? I wanted out of that life. I wanted some sense of normal."

Peter rolled his eyes. "You've never wanted for anythin'. You had a good life."

"When I wasn't being hidden in the crawlspace or shipped off to Grandma's, right?"

He shook his head. "I've had enough. It was a long flight, so I'm going to get some rest. Wake me up for dinner, would ya?"

Torrin stared blankly ahead, waiting for him to disappear into her room. Aven came out from her shower after she was dressed and her hair braided down her back, and sat across from her cousin.

"I shouldn't have let you find out that way," Aven apologized. "He promised me he would tell you. He didn't know why I came here – still doesn't, as far as I know. When I first found out, I confronted him. Asked him if he had set it up that –"

"Stop," Torrin interrupted calmly. "I don't want to know."

Aven nodded. "I'll open the pub today. Take a rest in my bed, if you want."

"We've got that pub crawl coming in tonight we've got to be ready for. I should –"

"You should get some rest and deal with everything your father's spontaneous presence has brought on you."

"Thank you," Torrin whispered, wiping her face.

Aven headed for the door but turned before leaving. "He didn't set it up. He didn't know who you were dating until after you told me you had met someone."

Torrin didn't say anything; the tears just came faster. Although it shouldn't have, knowing that only made her feel more betrayed. Maybe her father hadn't set up the relationship with Gavan, but he had done nothing to let her make the choice for herself once he was aware of Torrin's choice in suitor.

Deciding it was best to take Aven's offer, she went to her cousin's room, locked the door behind her, and curled up into the bed. She let sleep overcome everything else she was feeling, praying that when she woke, everything would be different.

.&.

Aven checked off another food item from the list Torrin had prepared the day before. At the rate she and Tiger were going, everything would be prepared for the pub crawl coming in later before Torrin even came downstairs.

"We're quite the team, you and me," she smiled at the burly man. "I'll pop these in the fridge then check on how Alanna's doing."

"Have to say, I'm glad Torrin decided to go with all the finger foods for this thing tonight. How many people are coming in?" Tiger asked.

"Well, the party event people said there's three groups of at least twenty."

"The regulars will love that," Tiger snorted. "S'long as I can be out of here before then. Have they ever had a pub crawl here before?"

"I don't think so – but Doc wasn't much for that kind of thing. Two Cousins is doing just fine, and we love the regulars of course, but we are going a little to the left of where McGinty's was, s'pose you could say."

"Nothing wrong with that. And Alanna's staying on to help serve?"

"She is, which'll be good. Torrin's father arrived this morning, without warning."

Tiger raised his brow, but didn't say anything. He knew enough about Torrin and Aven at that point to not ask questions. He was happy to have a job, and would do anything for his employers, but he eagerly accepted that they didn't need him to look out for them.

The next couple of hours passed with only small talk. Aven's mind was trying to focus on the food she was preparing and the orders she was filling, but thoughts of her uncle kept pushing through. Growing up, Peter had treated Aven as his own – just as Aven's father had done for Torrin. But, since she had found her career, Peter had all but disowned her. Aven tried to be understanding, but in the years she had done her job, she had never once turned on her uncle. Not one of her colleagues expected it of her. Still, the distance between her and her beloved uncle continued to grow.

"A woman pretty as you shouldn't have that worry and frown on her face."

Aven smiled as she turned to find Murphy leaning against the wall next to her. "When did you sneak in?"

"Just about a minute ago. I do love watching you work." He pulled her away from her task and closer to him.

"You've not even begun to see me work," Aven teased.

"You worked those Russians over pretty good."

She dropped his hand and went back to the food, sighing. "You know how much I love talking about that in the first place, but as it were, that wasn't anywhere near what I'm truly capable of."

Murphy wrapped his arms around her from behind, lacing his fingers through hers and again taking her from her task. "You're right, I shouldn't have brought it up. I think you'll forgive me after the surprise I have for you tonight though."

Aven chuckled and leaned against him. "I don't know if I'll be able to get away. The pub crawl's tonight, and my Uncle Peter's just arrived."

"You've let him get to you already," Murphy surmised.

Aven pulled away from him again and pulled off a sheet plastic wrap, putting it over the tray of food before storing the tray. Once that was done, she plucked the pack of cigarettes from Murphy's back pocket along with his lighter. She stepped out into the alley just outside the kitchen; Murphy followed her.

Aven had just lit the cigarette when Peter came down the stairs. Murphy was taking the pack from her hands, trying to figure out what he'd said or done this time, but Peter got in her face first.

"Who the hell are you?" Murphy demanded, pushing between the two of them.

"Give it a rest, Murphy," Aven sighed, pulling him out of the way. "This is Peter Hannigan, Torrin's father. My uncle. This is Murphy MacManus."

"Yes. I've just met your brother upstairs."

Murphy pulled out his own cigarette and lit it. "I'll be around front then."

Aven waited for him to be out of earshot. "You're leaving?"

"Don't sound so hopeful, dear niece," Peter snorted. "I'm simply meeting with some people."

"Good luck, then."

"I'd like to speak with you about what was said earlier. My daughter won't speak to me because of you."

"No," Aven argued. "She won't speak to you because of _you_. You hid things from her, you always have. That, Uncle Peter, is why Torrin stayed here. She wanted away from all the secrets and when you bring them back round and rub it in her face –"

"No, _you_ rubbed it in her face, Aven. I may have brought the secrets with me, but you exposed them. Secrets, I might add, which you would not have known if you had just stuck with bartending," Peter added sharply. "There's my car. I'll be back around."

Aven finished off her cigarette and snubbed it out with her toe. She wanted another one, so she turned to go in search of Murphy. He was already coming back down the alleyway towards her. He handed her a cigarette; she gave him a watery, grateful smile.

"It's been this way since I joined in, you know?" Aven started. "Used to be like I had two dads, almost. He keeps waiting for me to turn my back on him, but I would never do it, Murphy, I wouldn't!"

"I know," Murphy said softly, taking the cigarette from her hand and tossing it away with his. He held her face in his hands. "He's like that to you because he doesn't know you like we do. Doesn't know how loyal you are. Not like I do."

Aven's heart was bursting. She backed up against the brick wall of the pub, pulling Murphy along with her.

"Still want to kiss me? Because I could really use it right now," Aven sniffled.

Murphy smiled. He kissed her forehead, her nose, and each cheek. He hovered over her mouth, but didn't deliver. "You've no idea how bad I want to kiss you, but not like this. Wait for it."

Aven whined. "Wait for it? You know the day I'm having and you want me to wait for it?"

"I do. And I promise you, it'll be worth the wait."

The ornery sparkle in his eye finally drew a smile from her. "It had better be."

**A/N: As you can probably tell from how this chapter drags, my muse seems to be slacking. I did want to introduce Torrin's father, as he will play an important part throughout the rest of the story, and present more that tension between Peter and Aven. Hope this chapter hasn't turned anyone off to the whole story. Stick with me! Thanks for reading. **


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